


Twice Unforseen

by reellifejaneway



Series: Dragon Age: One-Shots [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Skyhold, Spoilers, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reellifejaneway/pseuds/reellifejaneway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arida Lavellan has reduced Commander Cullen to that blushing Templar recruit he thought he had left long behind. He knows that he can’t bear to let this remarkable woman walk out of his life, but he is equally determined not to distract Lady Lavellan from more important matters. She is the Inquisitor, after all. But when he discovers that his best intentions have been far more distracting than he anticipated, Cullen has to rectify the matter – and quickly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twice Unforseen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Once Unrequited](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777192) by [reellifejaneway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reellifejaneway/pseuds/reellifejaneway). 



> Requested by amusewithaview as a follow up chapter to my one-shot, “Once Unrequited”; only this time, told from Cullen's POV. A huge thank-you to the amazing phsbarbie for agreeing to be my beta for this fic! 
> 
> **SPOILERS*: If you haven't played DA: Inquisition, then consider yourself warned - contains spoilers for the Cullen romance! Arida Lavellan belongs to me - but Bioware owns everything else. I'm just a fangirl and I can't let go...

Once.

Twice.

Back and forth across the floor he paced, his heavy boots tracking a path in the dust of his office floorboards.

 _She has more important matters to attend to,_ he reminded himself for the thousandth time. _She doesn’t want to be distracted by something so trivial._

Cullen stopped then, running a hand through his hair and cursing his own stubbornness. Who was he trying to fool? He knew better than anyone that what he felt was far from trivial.

_I can’t even convince myself._

Three times... Four...

A face danced across his vision. Eyes, shining kingfisher blue and rimmed with violet, stared back at him calmly across a void of memory. Long, dark lashes and rust-coloured hair; a complacent demeanour; brows that arched with amusement whenever he stumbled over his own words; a compassionate smile from lips that looked so pliant and... _Maker take it all,_ how was he supposed to even talk to the woman when she was capable of reducing him to a blushing fool? Whenever Cullen looked at her, all he could think about was how beautiful she was – and how much he would like to taste those lips for himself.

He balled up his fists, pressing his fingertips into his palm – hard – and hoping somehow that the pain would take his mind off... A certain something else.

 _Arida_.

That was her name. She had introduced herself by it, even asked him to call her by it, but Cullen dared not say it. He couldn’t. She was the Inquisitor now. He had no right to address her so personally.

But oh how he wanted to...

A harsh knock sounded on his office door and Cullen spun about, eyes warily settling on the slab of oak.

“Enter!” He barked, schooling his features back into their usual stern expression.

A messenger shuffled in then, a bundle of papers in his hand. “Here are the memorandums you requested, Ser Cullen.”

“Excellent. I’ll read them now.” He took the parchments, his jaw clenching as he caught sight of the Nightingale’s seal. “Did Sister Leliana mention whether she has heard from that lost squad on the Storm Coast yet?”

“No, Commander,” The courier folded his hands respectfully behind his back. “But she did say to inform you that she will have a report to you as soon as Scout Harding hears anything.”

“Very well. Bring it straight to me when you receive it.”

“Aye, Ser Cullen.”

The door closed again, and the Commander resumed his pacing.

_Five... Six..._

_Inquisitor Lavellan_ – little could he have known when he first met her that she would become an icon so formidable.

His first impression of Lady Lavellan had been far from straightforward. The memory of battling through the snow was forever engrained in his memory, for that was the very first time he had laid eyes on _her_. She had been trailing behind Cassandra Pentaghast: A small creature – a Dalish elf, he had realised upon seeing her pointed ears and faint vallaslin – so delicately built and demure that she barely reached his shoulder in height. But what she lacked in stature she made up for with a face so striking that he simply could not stop staring.

Arida Lavellan – the spy discovered in the ruin of the Conclave. _And the woman who singlehandedly closed the tear in the veil..._

That was how she had been introduced to him. Cullen had been bewildered to say the least. For a spy she seemed far too diffident, almost dangerously naive in her confusion. Or perhaps that was what she had wanted him to think. Arida’s wide eyes had swept across the battlefield before landing on his face. Instantly he had seen her features harden, her chin tilt up slightly. She had barely acknowledged him except to stare at him coldly, those beautiful eyes allowing him no glimpse of her soul but the emotionless shield she permitted him to see.

It had been a stare which had tormented him ever since.

Had it arisen from insolence? Pride? Anger at being held prisoner unjustly? He couldn’t tell. All he remembered was that at the time, he had been sceptical – a woman who was the lone survivor of a disaster so great was running free and leading an army no less! And somehow Cullen was supposed to trust her to save them? Even if Arida Lavellan did possess the power to seal rifts, and even if she was innocent of those heinous accusations, something about her hadn’t sat right with him. Even now that she _had_ proven herself, unease blossomed into something far more uncomfortable.

Perhaps it hadn’t been Arida that had caused him so much anxiety. Perhaps it was _himself_ that he didn’t trust.

_Seven... Eight..._

Grinding his teeth, Cullen stopped pacing and tried to focus on the paperwork on his desk. He stepped across to the oak writing table, turning over one scroll in his hands – but not truly taking in what it said. After a few moments, he rubbed his free hand over his face.

 _What is wrong with me? I know she can’t think of me that way. She_ can’t. _I’m doing the right thing, I know I am. A professional distance is the best way to preserve our working relationship._

And yet, her face flashed into his mind’s eye once more.

Except this time, Lavellan was smiling, eyes studying him far too closely as she queried, “Tell me, Cullen, is it true that the Templars take vows of chastity?”

The Commander had been practicing with the soldiers in the training camp outside Haven that day. Cullen felt the blood rush to his face once more, the memory of fumbling his blade as vivid as though it were yesterday.

“W-What?” He had stammered, letting the long sword fall to his side.

“Vows,” Arida had repeated, her lip twitching with silent amusement. “Is it true?”

Cullen had blinked down at her in wonder, swiping at the sweat on his forehead. His mouth dry had turned bitterly dry despite the cool snowflakes that brushed against his cheek. “S-Some do, I s-suppose...”

“Did you?” She pressed after a moment of silence.

The sensation that question had awakened within him had been too painful to describe. Arida had been standing just a few feet away, her hair tossed casually across her forehead, that distinctive white hunter’s coat swirling around her slender ankles.  Cullen remembered wondering how soft her teal velvet scarf was, or whether her belted waist would feel as lithe in his arms as it looked. His vision had turned blurry, a burning pulse of arousal making him feel strangely exposed despite his full armour. Immediately he rebuked himself, fumbling to answer, “N-No... Maker.” He had all but choked on the words, an agonizing blush spreading across his cheeks. “C-Can we talk about s-something else?”

_Did she ask that deliberately to make me uncomfortable? Did she want to humiliate me simply because she could?_

“I hope she found it very amusing,” Cullen muttered furiously at the walls of his empty office.

_Nine... Ten..._

He had tried that tactic before: but somehow, making himself angry at her had never truly worked.

_Like so many other tactics._

Cullen truly thought he had learnt long ago not to let his heart lead him. He had been so proud of his restraint in Kirkwall: a man at last, strong enough to resist worldly pleasures, strong enough to deny the tug of his emotions.

Or so he had thought.

 _I’m not strong anymore,_ he groaned, covering his face with his hands. This fixation of his was going to destroy him – or at least his sanity.

How many times had he caught sight of Arida in a corridor, or in the courtyard, and taken a deliberate path to avoid her? How often had he turned about and fled before she could see, just so he didn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of her? Cullen knew it was the cowardly thing to do: To run instead of facing his fear. But what would the Inquisitor truly think if she could see just how much she affected him? And what would she say if he ever gathered up the courage to finally confess?

More to the point, what would _he_ say...?

He had only ever fallen for a woman once before in his life, and she had been taken from him in circumstances that had left him guilt-ridden and heartbroken. To go through it again was a painfully real possibility. But the truth was that Cullen was expecting rejection – he was almost certain now that Arida Lavellan wasn’t in love with him. The auburn-haired rogue was amused by him, yes, but not _in love_. It was excruciating to think that he wanted so much more from their relationship than she did.

 _She couldn’t want me that way_ , he rationalised, raking his hands through his hair once more. _After all, I’m her advisor. She’s hardly in a position to..._

Cullen’s thoughts instantly wandered back to a pair of bright azure eyes and supple lips. Suddenly he remembered his dream from the night before, a dream where his mind had vividly envisioned the exact _positions_ he wanted to place that wide-eyed elf in. Cullen had awoken with a jolt, the images leaving him sweating and painfully alone _._

“Oh for the love of Andraste!”

His pent-up frustration finally exploded, his hand lashing out blindly toward his desk. His glove connected with the spine of a book: the leather volume spun away across the room, and instantly Cullen regretted it. Pages scattered across the floor, leaving a trail of paper as evidence of his annoyance. Space; yes that’s what he needed, space to think. Shoving against the chair, Cullen strode furiously toward the door, stepping out onto the bulwark and taking a deep lungful of cool air—

Only to let it out in a sudden gasp a split second later.

There _she_ was, walking to and fro outside his door, muttering to herself and shaking her head.

Cullen froze, paralysing terror turning his legs to stone. _What is she doing here?_ He instantly began to panic. Struggling to calm his breathing, Cullen prayed that she wouldn’t turn around – not yet. Not until he had regained some level of composure.

 _Maker_ she was beautiful from this angle.

Dressed in fitted beige silks, Inquisitor Lavellan’s slender waist flexed gloriously with every step she took. Her shoulder-length hair covered the side of her face, obscuring her eyes from him, but as the late afternoon sun bounced off her russet locks, Cullen couldn’t help but admire the way the faint red highlights seemed to glow...

_She doesn’t know I’m here._

“Inquisitor?” He managed, feeling slightly wondrous at the fact that his voice actually sounded steady.

Lavellan, however, was anything _but_ steady.

Spinning about just a little too fast, she toppled to one side. Cullen was ready to rush forward and catch her, but before he could as much as move, Lavellan had caught herself. Balanced precariously on one arm and leaning against the stone wall of the tower, the Inquisitor grinned at him as though there was nothing wrong. Only the flushing of her cheeks told him otherwise.

“Cullen!” She exclaimed, swatting a stray curl back into place and shooting him a _nearly_ serene smile.

Cullen forced his shoulders back, tearing his eyes away from her hip – which was curving so delightfully in his direction – but looking at her face was not much easier. Those eyes of hers were vivid blue in the sunlight, and the way she tucked that strand of hair behind her smoothly pointed ear...

Cullen’s breath caught in his chest when her eyes settled on his face. _Oh by the Lady, she’s going to be the end of me._

 “I know you are busy,” Lavellan began, crossing her ankles and looking remarkably suave for somebody who had almost tripped herself over.

“I am... Busy, that is,” Cullen interjected suddenly, cutting her off mid-sentence. _Maker, I can’t. I’m going to make a fool of myself again – I can’t do this. I can’t. I have to get out of this..._ “I—”he glanced down at the scroll in his hands, suddenly realising he was still holding it, “I have a meeting with the other advisors in the Keep,” He lied, instantly feeling guilty at the disappointment in her eyes. “There is much work to be done... A-as you undoubtedly know.”

 _She doesn’t care for me,_ he tried to convince himself again. _She doesn’t need me to make her life any more complicated than what it already is._

A strange weakness settled in his knees, and a warning bell chimed furiously in his head. His stammer had already begun to resurface and Cullen knew that at any moment this woman could have him blushing or worse. He needed to get away. He glanced toward the stairs, wondering if he could simply mumble an excuse and make his escape that way...

“It will only take a moment,” the elf insisted, unfurling herself from her pose against the wall.

 _A moment is all I need to make a complete ass out of myself._ The Commander bit his lip to keep from saying the thought aloud. He desperately wanted to be close to Lavellan, to have the chance to learn about her – but he knew if he did get that chance, he wouldn’t be relaxed, he wouldn’t be himself, and he certainly wouldn’t be articulate. She would undoubtedly consider him a fool before it was over.

 _She’s waiting for an answer,_ he reminded himself.

Glancing nervously back at the woman in front of him, he tried to formulate a believable excuse. But what startled Cullen most was the fact that the disappointment which bloomed in his chest was now being all-too-clearly reflected in Inquisitor Lavellan’s eyes.

Cullen slapped himself mentally. _What am I doing? I can’t just disregard her because I’m worried for my own dignity. When did I become this selfish?_

He took a deep breath. “A moment then,” Cullen consented, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “Was there something you needed?”

_Maker’s breath – when did I get this up-tight? I sound like a noble addressing an unwanted guest._

Unwanted... Oh how far that was from the truth.

Arida bit her lip. “I thought we could talk – alone?”

Cullen prayed the heat he felt in his cheeks wasn’t showing on his face. _Did she just say...?_

“Alone?” He repeated, his blood pumping furiously in his ears.

_She wants to be alone – with me?_

Terror gripped him. Surely he was imagining this. He _had_ to be back in that dream, about to wake up covered in sweat and throbbing with need. At any moment Cullen expected to roll onto his side; realising with disappointment that he was in an empty bed and holding onto his pillow instead of...

_Enough!_

Drawing himself upright, Cullen swallowed and declared, “Of course, Inquisitor.”

As Arida began to walk along the battlement, Cullen couldn’t help but stare. His view of her back was just as beautiful as her front – shining hair, straightened shoulders and a torso so slender that he couldn’t think about anything else besides pulling her against him. His hands clenched by his sides, frustration brimming at the emptiness he felt. She drove him mad, couldn’t she see that?

After a moment, Inquisitor Lavellan fell into step beside him. Her eyes were firmly locked on the path ahead – something which he found strangely galling – and Cullen couldn’t help but wonder whether she was going to ask about business now. Was this a consultative visit? It had to be. She didn’t see him any other way after all...

 _You’re her advisor. Say something professional_.

“It’s a... Nice day.” A chuckle inadvertently escaped him then, and Cullen instantly lamented it. He turned away, rubbed the back of his neck fretfully.

_Well done, idiot. Very smooth._

“What?” Lavellan seemed a little taken aback by his amateurism.

Blushing fiercely, Cullen stammered, “I s-said it’s...” She was staring at him incredulously now. Mortified, he gave up on his previous attempt at small-talk and blurted, “There was something you wished to discuss?” He waited, locking his eyes on hers expectantly.

The Inquisitor wrung her hands slightly then – her fingers weaving together, and palms folding and unfolding restlessly. Cullen recognised the movement. He had seen her do it many a time at the war table, or in the great hall, whenever she was faced with a difficult decision or presenting a carefully worded response to an audience. His stomach twisted. Surely she didn’t find talking to him as torturous as delivering an address to a dignitary?

Lavellan cocked her head to one side, her hair sweeping gently across her forehead. “I find myself thinking about... About you.”

_Pardon?_

Cullen’s hands went numb from shock. He shook himself slightly and gaped, “About... Me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried, but uh... But I can’t.” The Inquisitor’s cheeks were tinted red by this point, and Cullen couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Cullen, I care for you.” Another twist of the hands had his heart wanting to leap from his chest. “And I wish... Uh, that is I hope... that you could care for me too.”

_Oh this has to be a dream!_

And yet, there she was, standing there before him, wringing her hands together and staring at the ground as though she had just admitted to making a terrible mistake. Cullen felt his jaw slacken, his hands unfurl and his entire body slump in disbelief.

_She couldn’t have just said what... what I thought she just said..._

And yet his gut warned him that this was no dream. This wasn’t a joke or a mistake. She had come here, pleaded with him for a moment to confess that she cared for him. Not that she liked him, not that she admired him, but that she _cared._ Somehow, that meant more to him than any other word could have. He was frozen to the spot, however, and somehow words failed him. The Inquisitor herself – a woman powerful enough to have her choice of any eligible man in Thedas – had chosen him when he had long given up hope of gaining any woman’s affection.

“I...” Cullen already knew his answer, but fear gripped him. Why was it so difficult to say? “I...”

“You didn’t know?” The demure elf stared up at him with incredulity. “You honestly didn’t know?”

“I hadn’t thought... I didn’t think that you could... I hadn’t thought...” The jumble of words flew from his mouth before he could catch them, and suddenly Cullen realised how bad they sounded. Rushing to correct himself, he added, “I hadn’t thought it possible.”

“But you ran away! All those times—”

_You saw that? Andraste preserve me._

“—So I wouldn’t make a fool of myself,” He confessed at last, the admission twisting like a blade in his gut. “Oh Maker, you thought...”

“That you were avoiding my company?” The Inquisitor finished the sentence and folded her arms furiously.

“Not because of you – not for the reason you think.” The Commander wanted to groan when he saw her eyes narrowing, hope rapidly being replaced by vexation.

“Explain it to me then,” The Inquisitor persisted, “Because I don’t know if I truly understand anything when it comes to you, Cullen. You confuse me so badly—”

_No – that’s not what I meant to do at all!_

“I don’t want to confuse you – Maker’s breath, that’s I exactly what was trying to avoid. _Confusing_ things.” Cullen took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking violently. The truth was the only thing that could fix this now. _“_ I didn’t think you wanted me,” he confessed, “Not in that way. I didn’t want to be a disruption.”

Arida’s eyes flashed. Spinning on the ball of one slender foot, she threw her hands up in the air and yelled, “Ar’felas!”

The action caught Cullen completely by surprise. He took a step back, his brows arching as he observed the dainty rogue’s posture change. She went from being the demure Inquisitor to being a wild-eyed spirit of rage, her hair flying about her shoulders with each furious stomp.  Hands waved in the air, each action accentuating words he could not make sense of. And yet, despite the language barrier, Cullen was keenly aware that her frustration had _everything_ to do with him.

 _Congratulations,_ he told himself, _you just succeeded in everything you wanted not to do to her._

A few moments later, Arida let her hands fall down by her sides. Turning back to him now, she apologised, “Forgive me, Cullen. I don’t think you realise just how much of a disruption you have become for me. And I to you, it seems. Oh Creators, I can’t believe I didn’t realise what was happening... That you could think of me that way...”

His stomach twisted at the sight of her so flustered. _Oh Maker, I could. I could think of you that way, Arida Lavellan. I think of you in many ways._

Arida’s eyes widened then, and she stared at him in awe. “You... You do?”

 _I said that aloud didn’t I?_ Cullen silently cursed his own foolishness in as many ways as he could think of. And yet, somehow the words had needed to be said, even if they had stumbled from his lips of their own volition. He had meant them, even if he hadn’t thought she could hear. It was too late now. There was no turning back, and in many ways, Cullen didn’t want to. She was here, watching him, waiting for him to confess...

_I can’t hold this in any longer. I have treated you wrongly – I was a fool, hiding behind my own fear._

Too much too soon? It sounded far too similar to the dialogue of a romance novel.

_Be honest. Don’t rehearse. Just tell her._

Turning to walk a distance up the rampart, Cullen reiterated, “I could – I do think of you, and what I might say in this kind of situation.”

Cullen turned only to realise that Arida was not only listening, she was hanging on every word. Eyes wide with anticipation were locked on his, lips hung slightly open in disbelief.

 _She’s just as terrified as I am,_ he realised. _Oh by the Lady, what have I put her through?_

There was only one way he could fix this.

His feet carried him to her, and with new-found determination he pressed her back against the buttress. And yet, his hands shook far too much for him to dare to touch her. “Inquisitor – Arida.”

“What’s stopping you?” Her sweet voice was barely above a whisper.

_Just tell her!_

“I have hoped – and still hope – that you would care for me,” Cullen began, swallowing the lump of fear that rose in his throat. “But you are the Inquisitor, and we are at war. It...”

He struggled to breathe – her blue eyes were so beautiful that he wanted nothing more than to drown in them. What a beautiful way to leave this world, Cullen realised; what an exquisite mercy it would be to relinquish his pain into her hands.

“It didn’t seem possible,” he finished breathlessly.

For a long moment, Arida simply stared. Then, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

It was as though a key had slid into a long-seized lock. Gears inside him began to move, gliding back into place and setting him in motion. For years he had been frozen like this, his heart locked away from the vulnerability of emotional attachment. But the beautiful woman before him had finally broken through that layer of rusted metal, coaxing him to trust, to give in.

Cullen finally convinced his hands to move, sliding his trembling palms around her waist slowly. “So you are,” He murmured, staring down at her with unmasked admiration. “It seems too much to ask. But I want to.”

Arida seemed to shiver then. She shrinked back against the wall, eyes never once breaking from his.

Leaning over her, Cullen gently pulled her against him. He waited for a moment, wondering if she would push him away or change her mind at the last moment. _Maker please don’t let her reject me now._ She felt too perfect in his arms. Arida was anything but fragile, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to shield her from the danger that breathed down her neck night and day. How he prayed she would allow him that privilege! Did she truly want him in her life? Did she truly see him as more than just an advisor...? Somehow words were not enough. He had to know for sure. He had to...

Their noses touched, and his breath hitched painfully. She smelt like wild embrium flowers – a mixture of honey-like fragrance and intense spice that filled his senses and burned so wonderfully at the back of his throat.  Cullen’s fingers squeezed against the piped edges of her silk jacket, his eyes drifting down to Arida’s pale pink lips.

_Maker, if her scent is this exquisite, then what does she taste like...?_

“Commander, you wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.”

The perfectly coiled thread of tension instantly snapped.

Arida’s eyes broke from his and she turned away, bumping her nose against his as she did so. The action itself wasn’t painful, but her shoulders sinking in disappointment was. That sight alone felt as though somebody had driven a blade into his chest. Cullen wanted to curse but, gentleman that he was, he bit his tongue. A dangerous sensation bubbled up within him. The urge to lash out grew until his fingers tingled with pent-up rage.

 _I got myself into this mess,_ he reminded himself.

Cullen wasn’t about to strike an innocent man simply for following orders. Instead he waited a few moments, collecting his thoughts and reassuring Arida with his touch that he wasn’t about to give up – no interruption, no matter how significant, would stop him now.

Cullen whirled and glowered at the messenger. “What!” He growled, stepping possessively between the younger man and his lady.

The recruit blanched, his eyes widening considerably as he caught sight of the Inquisitor. “Sister Leliana’s report... You wanted it delivered without delay?”

Cullen took a step closer, rolling his broad shoulders just so. The fur only heightened the immensity of his size, a fact that immediately registered on the face of the boy quivering before him. The Commander was practically growling at this point – the sound was foreign even to his own ears, but the result was undeniably effectual.

“Or to your office!” The messenger stammered, backing away slowly. “Right...”

And with that, the boy promptly fled.

As the sound of heavy footfalls echoed off the walls around them, Cullen relaxed and returned his focus to the auburn-haired elf behind him. Arida’s eyes were wide, her focus utterly shattered. Those ears of hers were blushing a fierce shade of pink at their tips – it was adorable, Cullen decided, taking a step in her direction. She visibly shivered, wetting her lips and looking as though she expected him to make excuses and leave her.

Except, Cullen had no such intention.

She wasn’t looking at his face. She couldn’t see just how intently he studied her, or how his eyes lingered on her mouth...

Arida began, “If you need to—”

Arida’s breath left her in a rush. Cullen had swept her up in an overwhelming embrace, pressing her into the parapet with as much intensity as he dared for fear of hurting her. He captured her easily within his strong arms, suddenly wishing that there weren’t so many layers of fabric and metal between them. The Inquisitor gasped in astonishment when he claimed her for himself, and Cullen took advantage of her surprise to ease herhead back.

_Trust me, Arida. Please._

Their lips brushed in tentative question, and when Lavellan sank into him in acceptance, he sighed gratefully. She was so small – his hands alone could span her waist, and Cullen found himself bending down to kiss her more thoroughly. Arida rose on her toes then. He could feel the palpable shiver that passed through her when she finally gathered the nerve to circle her hands around his back. Cullen gently stroked her hair, caressing her back with as much tenderness as he dared. Arida returned his fervour with gentle touches and sounds that left his head reeling: tiny gasps when he angled his lips just so, her fingers pressing into the seams at the sides of his armour whenever he brushed that smooth dip in her back.

Cullen had lost all track of time when he finally pulled away. Her lips were still gently fragranced from the Orlesian chocolates Josephine had shared with her at the war table earlier. Even in his wildest dreams he had never thought that she could feel so soft, or taste so sweet. Arida’s slender arms held him with a tenderness that left him gasping for air. Pulling away, Cullen struggled to recall when he had felt so heady, so light, as though he could let go and simply float across the mountain peaks.

Then, with a sickening lurch of his gut, he realised that he had in fact forced the kiss on her without her permission.

“I’m sorry,” He rasped, pulling back and instinctively rubbing at the crown of his head. “I... I didn’t mean to force that... That was really...” Cullen couldn’t help the smile then, “Really nice.”

“Forced?” Arida’s brows arched at that, and one slender hand reached out to intertwine with his gloved one. “Cullen – you didn’t force me.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t?”

That is when it hit him: she truly wanted this. Arida Lavellan wasn’t just accommodating him, or being pushed into something she would regret later. In fact, she was smiling up at him more genuinely than he had ever seen her smile before. It was almost as though she was laughing at him silently, her gaze whispering, _I wanted you to distract me, silly boy._ Lines tugged at the corners of those beautiful almond eyes, her lips curling alluringly as she studied him. He felt strangely exposed. Cullen wondered just how much of him Arida could truly see. Did she see how madly his heart pounded for her? Or how wildly his stomach fluttered when she smiled at him?

_Sweet Maker, she can read me like a book._

That realisation brought a fresh tinge of red to his cheeks. Cullen knew that he’d never be in possession of his own soul again: He had just handed it to Arida Lavellan with little more than a prayer, and she had accepted it gladly.

“You don’t regret it, do you?”

“What? No!” The words came out a little more abruptly than he had intended, but the distress in his eyes was quickly replaced with a smouldering tenderness when he beheld her adoring gaze. Cullen gently tipped her chin towards him. “Not at all.”

Their lips met again – an action twice unforseen – and Cullen smiled against her mouth. This was not how he had expected the day to end, especially when he had awoken this morning to a cold, empty bed. But Arida was perfectly content to melt into his body, each muffled sigh of contentment music to his ears. Her fingers were busy against his pauldrons, winding their way through the dark fur and up through the waves of his blond hair. He gently brushed his tongue against her lips and she returned in kind. He revelled in her: in the silkiness of her hair, the softness of her lips, the faint taste of chocolate, the scent of embrium... Their passion spiralled until Cullen simply had to break free. His better judgement stepped in at the last moment and yet, it felt as though he was trying to reign in a wild horse with little more than his bare hands. Arida was enthralling and he was only too willing to lose himself to her. But now was not the time.

Arida pressed her lips to his cheek; they were slightly redder than before, Cullen noted with pride. “How long have you—”

“Far longer than I should have,” He murmured, recalling just how much he’d been attracted to her that first day on the mountain pass. For so long now he had wondered if she could ever find it in her heart to care – but now to know for sure made his heart swell. Cullen dipped to briefly appraise the curve of her neck, he added, “Maker, Arida, you’re remarkable.”

“So are you, Cullen,” she whispered, bringing his gaze back up to hers. “So are you.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he folded her within his arms protectively. A cool breeze was blowing across the valley, sweeping over Skyhold’s walls and hinting at a coming storm. But neither Arida nor Cullen wanted to part as the sun lowered on the horizon, sending rose-coloured light over the Keep.

After a few moments of silence, Arida murmured, “Does this mean you’ll stop running away from me now?”

Cullen chuckled low in his throat. “I don’t think I could bring myself to part from you again, my lady.”

“Good,” Arida murmured. She bestowed a warm kiss on his swollen mouth and shot him a mischievous smile. “Show me how you Shemlen men like to be kissed again...?”

That earned her an enthusiastic growl. “Gladly.”


End file.
